


Parasomnia

by MillieMay



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Is this entirely self service, Post season finale, do i care, no, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillieMay/pseuds/MillieMay
Summary: Malcolm isn't the only one haunted by nightmares
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Parasomnia

**Author's Note:**

> I gotta admit for a long time I watched the prodigal son fandom from afar. Yet when there wasn't enough jessica and gil fics a girl has to take matters into her own hands. Hope y'all enjoy this snippet that I couldn't get out of my head bc I had an absolute blast writing it. I look forward to writing more here because I'm just so in love with all the characters and now that I've looped my friend into watching, they'll want a lot of content. Enjoy!

_ Truly this is a comedy of errors. Jessica Whitly was never late for a family dinner a day in her life and apparently she is starting today. First she’d been cornered by Cricket who’d insisted on catching up despite her desperate attempts to get away, then the car had broken down as Adolpho was coming to fetch her, and to round it all off she had to rely on an Uber in order to get home at a reasonable time. Not shocking that people weren’t too keen on offering rides to the ex-wife of a serial killer but it was rude nonetheless.  _

_ Still she’d managed to charm two bottles of bourbon from the host who pitied her enough to offer so she counted that as a win. The two bottles can serve as an apology of sorts. _

_ She checks her texts again as the man pulls up to her estate. Still nothing from Malcolm or Ainsley. She supposes she can’t be angry if neither of them are there or if they’re late themselves. Malcolm has shown up more than an hour off schedule so she’s used to it. However, she wishes they would at least text her back. She offers a polite thank you ignoring the eyes on her as she steps out.  _

_ The walk feels like it takes forever but hearing the playful banter from her children coming from an open window puts her at ease. She strides through the house, her apology already thoroughly planned. She pushes open the dining room door with her hip, bottles raised in an offer of good will. _

_ “Jessie! So lovely of you to join us.” The voice drops her heart to her stomach. Martin sits at the head of the table with a sickening grin on his face. His cardigan covers his psychiatric ward uniform, stained with spots of crimson. _

_ Her eyes flash to Malcolm, then Ainsley. Both were sitting perfectly posed still facing each other, unaware of her arrival. She can tell from across the room that their skin is pale, colorless. Their eyes stare emptily at one another, sad and horrified. _

_ “Why don’t you take a seat?” _

She wakes with a start, her scream caught in her throat. She can only be thankful for that much as she feels the other person in her bed stir slightly before settling into sleep once again.

She sits up forcing her heart rate to slow as she stares at Gil’s sleeping form. Thank god the man sleeps like the dead.

Since he was released from the hospital she insisted that he stay with her and recover. That’d been almost a month ago now and they were actively sharing a bed. She’d been so good about taking her sleeping pills in order to stave off the nightmares so Gil wouldn’t see. Last night she’d just been exhausted after the benefit. She’d barely the energy to dress down before falling into bed where he’d already been set up reading. She had fallen asleep while he absentmindedly played with her hair. She’d hoped that she was so tired that she’d fall into a dreamless void. 

Clearly that had worked wonders.

She grabs her robe off the nearby chair slipping out of the room as quietly as possible. Dealing with Malcolm’s night terrors through his adolescent years had taught her well enough about sneaking around in the dead of night.

She finds herself in the kitchen, fingers hovering in front of the liquor cabinet. She badly craves a drink but since what had happened with Endicott, she’d regretfully taken the route of trying to have a clear mind. Between Ainsley having no memory of what happened and Malcolm’s distant insistence that she’d done it because he had a gun, she needed to at least be present if her children need her.

She ends up grabbing a glass of water instead, noticing the slight tremor of her hand. She places the glass down, flexing and shaking her hand in an attempt to gain control over the involuntary movement once again. Yet another trick she’d learned over the years of being strong for her children. Finally when she’s steady enough she takes slow sips allowing her mind to wander.

Martin being transferred from Claremont to Rikers, the riot, the transfer back. It’d all been a living nightmare. At least in Claremont she had some confidence that he wouldn’t weasel his way out somehow. He was secluded to his one room there. Rikers was a god damn shitshow from start to finish.

Between Gil’s injury and Nicholas she’d hardly even thought of Martin until recently when the other two seemed to be settling ok. Yet it leaves her processing too many unknowns at once. She can practically feel herself shutting down, she doesn’t even notice when Gil comes in the room. 

She can only bow her head and try to steady herself with the facts. Ainsley’s actions were in self defense, Martin is back in Claremont, Gil is alive, her children are safe. She repeats these words in her mind like a mantra rocking back and forth on the smooth tile.

“Jessie.” Two hands grab her by the shoulders and once again she’s back in her nightmare.

She’s pulled back immediately by the sound of glass shattering and the pain shooting through her hand.

“Fuck Jessica. Stay there.” She watches him helplessly as he grabs the broom and a dustpan, sweeping up the glass she’d broken. He’s more than familiar with where she keeps supplies during his stay and he navigates the home with ease. Once he deems it safe for her to walk again, he guides her gently to sit on the couch so he can tend to her hand.

“You didn’t have to… You should’ve called for…” The words simply seem to escape her. Not a single thought pieces together other than, “I’m sorry.”

Worry crosses over his face as tears involuntarily spill down her cheeks. He gathers her into her arms shushing as apologies spill from her lips. He shouldn’t have had to clean up the mess, she shouldn’t have woken him, and he shouldn’t be worrying about her when there’s so damn much to be worried about.

He holds her tighter as she crumbles into a sobbing mess. She finally allows herself to weep over the absolute chaos that gripped her life. He doesn’t let go until she calms herself once again.

He wants to ask her what happened, she knows he does. She steadies herself as he cleans her hand and wraps it. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” He denies, she can’t decide if it’s the truth or not. “I woke up to you not in bed and I came to find you.”

“I’m sorry.” This one was barely a whisper.

“You had a nightmare.” He sighs. She nods, eyes falling to the floor. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I could’ve helped.”

“You called me Jessie.” The nickname slips from her lips with venom. The nickname had been used by Martin innumerably throughout their marriage. He was the only one allowed to call her that. She’s had a disdain for it ever since.

“Fuck.” He drops his forehead against hers. “I was just worried and it slipped. I heard you crying and I couldn’t get your attention. Jess,”

“If you start saying you’re sorry we’re both in for it.” He chuckles and she brings up her good hand, tracing the edge of his smile with her thumb. “It was a slip up. But just like always you have poor timing.”

“Jess don’t.” She sighs knowing she was caught. Deflecting with sarcasm was her weapon of choice. It was easier than allowing herself to be so vulnerable, especially with him. “Talk to me.”

She breaks the embrace settling into the couch. Part of her wishes she could sink into the cushions and never surface again. “I was running late for dinner.”

“That’s a nightmare in and of itself.” She shoves him lightly but it worked; he managed to break down some of the tension threatening to strangle her.

“I came home and… he was here. Smiling, as if nothing were wrong in the world.” She chews on her lip forcing the tears not to start spilling over again. Malcolm and Ainsley they were…”

“Jess, he wouldn’t hurt them.” She nods, knowing he was telling the truth but the sight haunts her.

“They were so still.” He tugs her closer so she’s almost sitting in his lap. The feeling of him pressed into her grounds her to the present. He called me Jessie so when you did it-”

“I scared you. I’m-” He stops himself when she glares at him. “Martin is back in Claremont. There’s not a chance in hell of him getting out of there, not with his privileges that he had from Endicott being stripped. As for Malcolm and Ainsley, they’re working their way through their own issues but they’re safe.”

“For how long? All that can seem to come from Martin is horrific people. All looking to destroy us.”

“Am I hearing you doubt yourself?” He drops a kiss to her shoulder smiling against her skin as she rolls her eyes. “Malcolm was trained by the FBI; Ainsley can protect herself like no other; and their badass mother smashed a serial killer’s face with a plate, crashed my car into an assassin’s, dragged my ass out of the trunk, and got me to the hospital all in heels. Am I really hearing you doubt yourself?”

“I still owe you for the damages to your car.” He chuckles and she lets the sound wash over her. “Or I can at least get your Le Mans repaired for when my son fell onto it when I thought he was on vacation.”

“Remind me to never let Ainsley near my car. You Whitly’s are dangerous.” She smiles, the anxiety of the night finally fading. “Now, will you come back to bed before your son wakes us up at the crack of dawn to rant about the city’s latest murder?”

“Fair enough.” She lets him guide her back to the bedroom, thoughts of Martin far away.


End file.
